Unravel
by Daikonko
Summary: His life had been filled with hatred and misery and he was used to that; but Thomas Barrow, like any person, could only take so much and the death of Lady Sybil may be his final straw. Spoilers for season 3 episode 5


**Title:** Unravel

**Fandom: **Downton Abbey

**Rating: T**

**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort & Angst

**Pairing: **brief mentions of EdwardxThomas

**Warning: **IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN SEASON 3 EPISODE 5, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Downton Abbey, there would be so many more episodes if I did

**A/N: **Thomas might be a little ooc in this. Alfred definitely is, but I could find the right person to fit the role I wanted.

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**_Unravel_**

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There were times when he hated himself. Most of the time he hated himself, but he'd learned long ago to shove those emotions so far down he could pretend they weren't there. He didn't hate himself like the others hated him. He knew he didn't choose to be this way, if only they could understand. He hated himself for what he had become. There was nothing inside him, but bitterness and misery and self loathing. Sometimes those emotions threatened to swallow him, much more so after the war. You could only be hurt so many times, lose so many people before you begin to unravel. And he seemed to be constantly faced with loss and hurt at every turn of life. It seemed everything he tried to care for was destroyed before his eyes or hurt him in turn.

.

For one of 'them' she was a lot like himself. She was never faint or squeamish when dealing with patients and went about her duties like a proper nurse. Other than that, he really didn't take much notice of her until Lieutenant Courtney. He saw the knowing looks she sent his way, when he interacted with the lieutenant. A week after his first meeting with the lieutenant she had come to him _'Thomas could you watch over lieutenant Courtney for me, I'm a bit busy' _She spent the whole night reading in a corner and dutifully ignored the grateful smile that couldn't seem to leave his face.

.

She had been the one to find the lieutenant dead. After rushing off to find Clarkson and reporting all that she could, she had wander to the most abandoned part of the hospital. He was hunched against the wall, body shaking uncontrollably. She did not look at him; she only pulled out a worn handkerchief and passed it silently to him. He tried to speak, but voice crack too much to be of use. He settled for a nod. _'I'm so sorry for your loss' _after that she left. Wrapped in the handkerchief was a half blasted dog tag.

.

"_Where are his bloody shirts?!"_ He hated this, he could take a few jabs and barbs and hatred, but this helplessness was something else. He couldn't lie, or cheat or fake his way out of this one. He watched them all sitting there, so amused by his distress, it reminded him of himself and he hated them all the more for it. Before the war, before him, he would have seen a way out, would have had a smart retort and last remark, now he had nothing. He opened and closed his mouth as his words died in his throat. What he wanted to say was _please help me_, but there was no help for men like him, so he said nothing and walked back the way he came, so the others wouldn't see the despair welling up in him.

.

It was bloody dangerous what he was doing. Men had been hanged for far less, but he couldn't help it. Maybe he was just getting tired of hiding, maybe he was hoping to be caught. No matter the reason whenever he saw Jimmy's eye he couldn't help but smile, in a way that could not be mistaken for something so dull as platonic. If only he was born, a different man or maybe this was a sign he shouldn't have been born at all.

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He wanted to vomit. He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream and throw things and bash his head against the wall for all the good it would do. He could not claim that him and Lady Sybil had been friends for long or seen each other much after the war; but she was the close to acceptance, as he would ever get. She had changed her shift so he could spend more time with Edward; she had looked the other way when they had grasped each other's hands. Now she was gone. He didn't want to be here, none of these people understood, none of them cared. Nobody would notice if I died. He flew out of the room in a panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stop the tears.

.

He had been coming down from his lordships room when he saw her. Pale as a ghost and shrouded in black cloth, they carried her from the room. She looked so peaceful, like she could be sleeping. He wanted to ask them to stop, he wanted to say goodbye to her. But he was downstairs, and downstairs did not associate themselves with the upper-class, they could never be friends. So he stood there and said nothing.

Numbly he walked to the kitchens, his body running on autopilot. Mr. Carson looked weary and lashed out at him when he entered. He did not react, his mind felt foggy, it made it hard to think, hard to feel.

" _?"_ Alfred said from the corner. Thomas sprinted across the room, toppling Daisy to the ground in his haste; and retched violently into the sink; because suddenly it was all clearly, so painfully clear. Everyone I care for dies.

He couldn't breathe; he was drowning in his own tears. He fell to his knees one arm still clutching the sink. He tried to speak, but wasn't sure what he was saying. Whatever he was shouting shocked the rest of the staff. _"Please god, I can't take any more pain, I bloody can't do it anymore! Please stop it, nobody in this world can hate me more than I hate myself!" _

_Because she was my friend, because I tried to help him, because because because...I killed them. _Someone had grabbed him round the shoulders and was rocking him gently back and forth, whispering meaningless comforts.

"_You are a prat, a git and a bloody bastard Thomas Barrow; but you're also one of us. So no matter how much of a bastard you may be." _The person holding him grabbed him by the back of the head, for him to meet their eyes. He was shocked to see Alfred of all people.

"_I don't hate you Mr. Barrow"_

It wasn't love or like or even tolerance, they didn't accept what he was; but he felt relief nonetheless and some semblance of peace. After all, there is only so much hurt and loss a person can take before they start to unravel.

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Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry it's so bloody depressing, but I can't imagine life being very cheery when you could be killed for your sexual orientation. I know a lot of people hate Thomas, but I just can't!


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